Escaping Wonderland (ON HIATUS)
by Freya Ishtar
Summary: *AU* A surreal moment shared on the battlefield with Corvus Selwyn, and the discovery of a bizarre amulet, find Hermione in a land of fairy tales. Though trapped, she can't help but think it's fate when her new trinket leads her to Jefferson, a man with a striking resemblance to the Death Eater she watched die.
1. With Eyes of Deepest Blue

**Author's Notes** **:**

 **1)** This fic is a canon-divergent AU for _both_ verses. Some elements from the canon storylines will still have taken place/be present, others will not.

 **2)** The Wonderland portrayed in this fic is not based in the _OUaT_ version, nor any version in particular, but is rather an amalgam of various takes on the concept of Wonderland, itself, that I've read, watched, or heard about over the years.

 **3)** Chapter lengths will vary, sometimes they might be over 4k words, sometimes they won't even break 2k words.

 **4)** This fic is in keeping with a theme I've presented in other crossovers, wherein fancasts of particular characters in one fandom are another fandom's alternate selves. In this case, I always use Sebastian Stan as Death Eater character Selwyn.

 ***** _ **Corvus**_ **Selwyn** is my personal take on the canon character of Selwyn & appears in a few of my DE-centric fics.

* * *

 **Disclaimer** **: I do not own** _ **Harry Potter**_ **, or** _ **Once Upon a Time**_ **, or any affiliated characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

With Eyes of Deepest Blue

Hermione didn't know quite what it had been about him, but she could not seem to shake Corvus Selwyn from her mind. It could not merely have been his flirtatiousness, or the suggestive looks he sneaked in her direction when he'd been part of the group who'd taken her, Harry, and Ron to Malfoy Manor . . . . No, he was hardly the only one saying or doing such things. She kept it strictly to herself, but she was rather certain the War was not being kind to the Snatchers or the Death Eaters when it came to, _ahem_ , female companionship.

It could not have been that his attitude, or his mildly lewd words unsettled her. On _that_ count, Fenrir Greyback took the cake.

There was something about his eyes, perhaps. She'd never seen eyes so blue. Of course, she was perfectly aware that was likely no more than a combination of the lighting and the deep, rich colors of their surroundings at the time that had made them stand out to her. But there had simply been something _off_ —some somber glint that didn't quite lend to his callous and crude demeanor.

She'd decided that was all, that _had_ to be all. He was handsome in a way that pulled at heartstrings with very little effort. And those eyes most certainly didn't help. Yes, yes, like the Death Eaters lamenting her blood status, otherwise she might put her formidable mind to work for _them_ , she found herself lamenting that someone like _him_ was a soldier for the other side in their War.

Yet, just when—amidst the chaos of the War, and it's final act, The Battle of Hogwarts—she'd thought she solved the mystery of Corvus Selwyn's appeal, they happened across each other on the battlefield. Their wands at the ready, Hermione felt her throat close, trapping the air in her lungs.

There was the oddest shutting down of her senses for a few, staggering heartbeats, as all the noise and tumult around them seemed to die away. For handful of seconds, all that existed was Corvus Selwyn, and the weapon he held aimed at her.

All she could see were those blue eyes . . . and his hesitation to strike.

Just a moment, really. But in the passing of that opportunity, she felt as though the world shifted beneath her feet.

And then the acidic green energy of a wildly fired Killing Curse struck him.

She thought she could feel the beat of her own heart hammering in her head as she watched him fall. She knew the battle had sprung back into existence around them, but all she could hear was a dull cadence of unfocused sounds.

His attention never drifted from her as his body hit the ground. His gaze was locked with hers as the life left his eyes.

There was a strange, terribly hollow sensation in the center of her chest. She didn't know him, she certainly would not shed tears for him, yet as the War raged around her, charms and curses singeing the very air on all sides of her, she was overcome with a notion so unusual, so . . . misplaced for its timing and its source, that she could not comprehend it.

She was _alone_.

In that moment, even as she'd thought she would not cry for her enemy, a single tear escaped her eye.

* * *

Jefferson slammed down the spool of thread, his eyes watering. This was not working! It would _never_ work.

Swallowing uncomfortably, he touched a hand to the scar on his throat. At this rate, he'd never make it home. His only comfort was that the people he'd left watching Grace were kind, they'd care for her until he returned.

Whenever _that_ was.

If only the Queen would let him leave. Let him go find some source of magic to use. Sighing, he folded his arms on his worktable and laid his head against them.

Just for a moment, he'd rest, then he'd get back to work. Not that it mattered. He was beginning to wonder if they kept him here for _this_ , as they said, or if it wasn't merely a punishment to give him a task he'd already told them he could not fulfill.

He must've been more tired than he realized, because before he knew it, he was dozing. But it was a fitful sleep, bombarded with strange images. A woman he did not recognize, with chestnut-colored eyes and a mane of wild, golden brown hair; a scar on her throat, though not as severe as his, it wasn't very different, either. He was observing, silent in the shadows, as she looked around the forest, appearing utterly lost.

But what he did recognize? She had a _wand_.

Was she some type of fairy? A witch? He couldn't be sure, but he did know one thing—a wand meant magic. And if he was seeing her, perhaps this was someone he was meant to cross paths with, but how if he was trapped in this godforsaken castle?

Then again, she could always be a figment of his hopeful imagination.

He started awake at a strange rattling from somewhere nearby, right then.

Sitting up, Jefferson looked around. The noise seemed to come from a mirrored wardrobe cabinet in the corner of the room. He'd never paid much mind to it before, but now? He couldn't seem to pull his attention from the ornately carved green wood frame.

Forcing a gulp down his throat, he stood from his stool and started toward it. The rattling stopped, and so he paused. After only a moment, the rattling came, again. It sounded like metal, but he could not place what was making the noise.

He did have the oddest impression something was playing with him. Each time the rattling stopped, he'd pause, and each time he paused, the rattling would start, again.

Frowning, he hurried the last few steps and wrenched open the door.

At the back of the otherwise empty wardrobe was a charm on a silver chain. No bigger than a pebble, a pale, blue-green light shown from between the charm's intricate silver lacework.

"You were making all that noise?" he asked, far past the point of feeling ridiculous for speaking to inanimate objects.

Yet, now that he had found the culprit, it had stopped moving.

With a sigh, he stepped into the wardrobe, reaching out to close his fingers around the charm. The moment he came into contact with it, the door slammed shut behind him.

Shaking his head, he stood and turned to face the door, the weird little trinket in his hand. "This isn't funny," he muttered to himself, certain one of the castle's servants was amusing themselves at his expense— _again_.

But, when he pushed at the door, it was not locked, nor even stuck. It gave no resistance at all, swinging open easily at his touch.

As he stepped out, the darkness of his surroundings startled him. Lifting his gaze, he found there was only enough light to see by, provided by a sliver of moon and a blanket of stars peeking through the leaves.

He was out in the forest? But how?

Turning back to the wardrobe, he found it gone. His shoulder slumped as he looked around. Yes, he was out of the castle, but he hadn't the faintest idea where he was. To make matters worse, the scents and sounds of the woods surrounding him reminded him, fast, that he was utterly defenseless, and had nothing but the clothes on his back.

And, even if he made it back to the castle, he'd be punished for _trying_ to escape. Never mind what was going to happen if the Queen realized he was missing before then.

"This is not good," he said with a thoughtful frown as he turned his head, taking stock of his surroundings, once more.

* * *

"C'mon, what's with the solemn face?" Harry asked, looking exhausted and utterly bedraggled, but finally— _finally_ —peaceful.

Two weeks had passed since that triumphant, yet horrible day. Here they were, having just finished the massive, magical effort to restore Hogwarts, and celebrating with a beautiful, formal feast—and what a sight they all made, still healing and visibly tired, yet dressed up like it was the Yule Ball, all over again.

Hermione snapped her gaze up from her cup of deliciously bewitched punch to meet her best friend's gaze. "Oh, nothing, I just . . . ." She forced a smile and shook her head. "I suppose I just still can't believe it's all finally over."

He nodded, returning her smile—with the exception that his was genuine—and turned to look at the gathering of wizards and witches celebrating their long awaited and hard won victory. "I know. It's sort of surreal, isn't it?"

She frowned in thought as she echoed the word. "Surreal." Yes, that was it. That's how this felt. For it to be two weeks later and her still being unable to shake Corvus Selwyn's face from her mind, to be unable to purge his voice from her thoughts, was certainly a situation best described as _surreal_. "Yes. That's it, exactly."

"Why don't you go take a walk? Get some fresh air . . . . Go say hullo to the giant squid, or something."

Looking about the spectacularly re-done Great Hall, Hermione drew in a deep breath and exhaled slow. She nodded, the way her mind was muddled as of late didn't make her the best company.

"You're right, that sounds like a good idea." Before Harry could give her a message from him for the bloody squid, she tacked on, "The fresh air part, Harry."

He snickered and made a playful shooing gesture before turning and heading back to the Weasleys.

She made her way through the castle's main floor, waving and smiling at those she passed. Though it was hardly the most polite thing, she made certain the pleasant expression didn't reach her eyes. She knew people wanted to speak with her, but she was not really in the mood for conversation.

And that she wasn't even really certain why she was so turned around by this Selwyn situation only made things worse.

Hermione uttered a heavy sigh as she passed through the gates and found herself on the road leading up to the school. Staring out into the night-darkened treeline of the Forbidden Forest, she stilled.

She folded her arms under her breasts, fleetingly happy that she was not among the crowd, anymore. Every time she'd done that in there, she caught at least one or two wizards eyeing the hint of cleavage visible over the top of her cream-colored dress robes. Really, it was fine _Muggle dress_ , but the similarity between Muggle gowns and Wizarding dress robes let her get away with it.

She knew they weren't used to seeing this sort of attire on _her_ , but honestly, one would think they'd never seen breasts, before.

Laughing under her breath, the witch shook her head. How long had it been since she'd had such silly, random thoughts? Yet, in wondering that, she was brought back to the issue that had brought her out here for _fresh air_ in the first place.

Corvus Selwyn was not the only, nor even the first, person she'd witnessed die during the War. Perhaps it was because she'd been staring into his eyes when it happened?

Yes, that seemed the only logical reason. That still didn't explain, however, why he'd left an impression on her _before_ then—the impression that led to that strange, staggered moment on the battlefield.

Maybe it was that he'd hesitated. That moment of indecision on his part . . . it made her wonder if she'd somehow left a similar impression on him.

Made her wonder if there had been something clandestine about their meeting?

Swallowing hard, she dropped her gaze to the ground beneath her feet. _Rubbish_ , she thought with an inward laugh. She didn't believe in cosmic connections, or ridiculous things of that nature.

It was probably something as simple as if they'd met under different circumstances, they'd have been all over each other before even learning one another's names. That . . . that made perfect sense, she supposed.

It was shallow, it was crass, but it was something she could understand.

With a sigh, she lifted her gaze to the trees, once more. That was when she noticed it. The soft, blue-green glinting at the start of the forest. Brow furrowing, she looked about. Several other people had gathered in the courtyard behind her, but even those staring whimsically into the trees, just as she'd been, didn't seem to notice.

She returned her attention to the light to find it still there, a tiny beacon through the darkness. Against her better judgement, Hermione started for that glinting. She knew it was hardly the wisest decision, but she'd just faced a War, and had been in this Forest more times than she cared to count. Nothing here was frightening to her, anymore.

However, she wasn't wholly stupid. As she walked, she withdrew her wand from a cleverly hidden pocket she'd had sewn into her dress.

The oddest thing happened, then. The pale light, no bigger than a pebble, _moved_. She started, but refused to believe what she'd just seen. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her.

Continuing after it, however, she was forced to question if it really had moved, as she found herself walking deeper into the forest than she'd initially thought she'd have to go. Perhaps she'd simply underestimated the distance.

The sounds of the woods at night filled her ears, and the earthy scent of it hung heavy in the air.

Igniting the tip of her wand, she kept it lowered beside her, lighting her path without detracting from that tiny blip of illumination she was tracking.

It most certainly _was_ moving! But by now, her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She had to find out what that was!

After a few more meters, she had the distinct impression that whatever that light was, it was playing with her. There was something almost childlike in the activity. God, she hoped it wasn't a ghost of one of the younger students lost in the War . . . . That would be a heartbreaking encounter, for certain.

And then, the movement simply stopped.

With a breathy laugh, she finally reached it. On the ground at the base of a grand, gnarled tree, was a heart-shaped charm. She slipped her fingers into the silver chain and lifted it, admiring the pale blue-green illumination spilling out from amid the heart's metal lacework.

"What _are_ you?" she asked, grinning in spite of herself. Whatever it was, she was about to go research the _hell_ out of it.

She braced her wandhand against the tree as she pushed up to her feet. The solid feel of the bark gave way and suddenly she was tumbling forward.

Hermione bit back a scream as she fell—through what she could swear was a tunnel, long and twisting, but she had no idea how such a thing was possible. When she hit the ground, strangely more gently than she'd expected, she found herself staring up at the night sky.

Only, it wasn't the same night sky that hung over the Forbidden Forest.

After a moment to get her bearings, she climbed to her feet, her wand clutched in one hand, and the charm in the other. She turned her attention toward the tree, only for her eyes to shoot wide and her mouth to drop open in shock.

There was a glowing doorway _in_ the tree. Oh, she'd love to explore wherever this was, but she had to get back before anyone worried about her!

As she stepped toward the door, however, it slammed shut, vanishing almost entirely from sight. Uttering a gasp that sounded strangely affronted—as though the tree had insulted her—she raised her wand.

There was a faint outline against the wood that she could just make out in the illumination. The door was _still_ there, which meant it might still be something she could unlock.

" _Alohomora_!"

Nothing. Her shoulders drooping, she opened her mouth to try again, perhaps a charm to reveal hidden things, when she heard a voice from behind her.

"Hello?"

Whirling on her heel, she turned her wand on the speaker. "Come out where I can see you!"

His hands up, Jefferson stepped from behind a tree. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just . . . ." His voice trailed off as he saw her more clearly in the sparse illumination. The wand she held pointed at him, the dark eyes, the hair that seemed like it didn't know _what_ it was doing with itself.

"What?" she demanded, yet as the word left her lips, he stepped close enough for her to see his face in the night-dark of the forest.

Her brows shot up. But even as she saw those familiar features, those deep blue eyes that had somehow stamped themselves on her memory, she knew there was no way the man standing before her was Corvus Selwyn. What she did know, however, was that from his hand dangled a charm that emitted that same soft, strange light as the one she held.

Swallowing hard, she lowered her wand, but lifted the glowing heart so he could see it.

He mimicked her gesture, raising the silver lacework sphere he'd found. For a moment, there was nothing but silence and the sounds of the forest as they stared at one another, as they examined each other's trinkets with their gazes.

"Who are you?" he asked, his tone mystified.

His voice sounded like Corvus', but the accent was different. She merely stared at his face for a pained moment before she said, "My—my name's Hermione."

He nodded, slipping his bizarre little charm that had led him to her, somehow, into his pocket. "My name is Jefferson, and I think . . . . I _think_ I've been expecting you."

Hermione noticed he sounded confused, himself, by that statement, which probably meant he hadn't actively brought her here, rather that he'd somehow known they'd meet. She could see that he was unarmed, but refused to put her wand away, just yet.

The charm was too wide for her wand pocket, so she slipped the chain over her head. Unfortunately, that also brought her the awareness of how much the tumble here had messed with her usually difficult control mane.

She ignored that he bit his lip to hold in a snicker as she groaned and smoothed her free hand over her hair in what was probably a quite laughable futile effort.

"Jefferson? Can you tell me where I am?"

At that, his brows shot up. He gave her a once-over. She certainly wasn't from around there. Her gown, though becoming, didn't look like a design he'd ever seen, and even though she carried a wand, he doubted she had ever heard of this place. So few people knew it was more than a fairy tale.

He shifted his weight, pursing his lips in thought before he could answer. "I'll tell you, but you're probably not going to believe me."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know that we've got time for me to bore you with the details, Jefferson, but I've been through, seen, and done a _lot_. Not to mention that I tumbled through a bloody tree to get here, so I'm pretty sure I just _might_ believe you."

The man breathed out a quick, quiet chuckle as he shook his head. "Very well, Hermione. You're in Wonderland."

"I . . . ." Her face fell as she held his gaze. From his expression, she could tell he expected this response from her. _That_ , and he was totally and completely serious.

A shocked, shivering breath escaping her, she looked about once more, before returning her attention to him. " _What_?!"


	2. I'm No Alice

**Chapter Two**

I'm No Alice

She waited for a breath . . . two . . . three. But the look on Jefferson's face never changed. He was completely serious, and there didn't appear to be the faintest glimmer of insanity in his gaze, either—and after coming face-to-face with so many Death Eaters, _too_ many of them driven mad by the crimes they'd committed in service to their Dark Lord, she knew well what that sort of subdued depravity looked like.

The only thing she could detect in his expression was a concern over her reaction. Of course, that was natural, to worry that she wouldn't believe him.

Despite all that, though . . . . She couldn't bring herself to trust what she'd just heard.

"Wonderland?" she echoed, in a breathless whisper.

He swiveled his gaze about and then returned his attention to her as he shrugged, nodding.

For another painfully quiet moment, she simply stared at him. This was madness, and yet, she knew in her gut that it was true.

A sad-looking half grin curved his lips. "Not what you were expecting to hear, was it?"

Hermione shook her head, turning away from him to examine the tree she'd . . . fallen out of? Through? From? She wasn't even sure how to think of her arrival here!

"I mean, where I come from, there's magic—" she was rather positive she didn't have to concern herself with the Statute of Secrecy in the middle of a land out of a fairy tale—"but this isn't the sort of thing anyone expects will happen to them when they wake up in the morning."

Jefferson's mouth tugged to one side as he watched her careful study of the now wholly-unremarkable bark. Well, wholly-unremarkable with the exception that it was pink with shiny copper swirls shifting across its surface, but that was Wonderland for you.

Clearing his throat, stuffed his fists into his pockets. "So you're what, exactly?"

"All right, considering where we are and how I got here, I suppose you'll believe me—but please don't panic—when I say I'm a witch." She tacked on hurriedly, "The _good_ kind. I don't curse people or steal babies, or anything."

"That is _good_ to know."

Every sound in the trees made her jump just a little and she hated that. It was a forest, and there were nocturnal creatures in the forest, it seemed the one normal thing she could count on, and yet . . . .

"I swear," she said with a sigh as she turned around to face him, once more, "I think I keep expecting the Cheshire Cat to leap out at me, or something."

He started, tearing his gaze from hers to look into the branches overhead. "Oh, hell, I hope _not_."

"Well, perhaps not specifically." She dropped her gaze to the ground, shrugging as she went on. "But you, know, _Wonderland_ . . . . I wouldn't be surprised, at all to see the March Hare, or that knackered, opium-smoking caterpillar, or the Mad Hatter, maybe."

The words were out of his mouth before he could think to stop them. "Mad Hat—people where you're from think I'm crazy?"

Hermione snapped up her gaze to lock on his. He was wide-eyed, and looked a little hurt, she thought, but as before appeared completely serious. "You . . . ." She swallowed hard. "You're _the_ Hatter?"

"Well, considering hat making _is_ what the Queen of Hearts imprisoned me to do for her, I'd have to think so."

Her shoulders slumped and her eyes gaped as she started back at him. She was talking to the Mad Hatter and he was a prisoner of the Queen of Hearts? The bloody thirsty, beheading-happy tyrant from the fairy tales?

Bloody _hell_ , what had she stumbled into?

"Who am I? Alice?" she asked herself in a whisper.

His face scrunching up in question, he darted his gaze about as he mouthed the question, _Who's Alice?_

"I can't—" Shaking her head, she licked her suddenly, mysteriously, parched lips in a quick gesture of anxiety. "I can't even imagine what in the world I'm doing here!"

His brow furrowing as he winced, Jefferson kept his gaze pinned on her even as he backpedaled a step. "I have a thought on that, but you might not like it."

Grousing silently, Hermione swept the folds of her dress against her bum and took a seat on a nearby toadstool. She tossed her hands in the air as she said, "I'm already in bloody Wonderland talking to the bloody Hatter as I sit on a mushroom the size of a dining room chair; I'm pretty sure whatever _you've_ got to say can't set me any more 'round the bend than that."

He opened his mouth to speak, but just as quickly closed it. With a head shake of his own, he started again. "I know how this is going to sound, given the whole 'mad' thing . . . ." He paused, allowing himself a moment to roll his eyes at the moniker he was apparently known by in her world. "But do you believe in fate?"

She sat up a little straighter, her gaze locking on his face. He had said earlier that he thought he'd been expecting her, hadn't he? "Why would you ask me that?"

Heaving a weighted sigh, he moved closer, his steps cautious. Jefferson crossed his legs and settled on the ground before her. He offered the most serious expression he could muster as he stared up at her. "Because, somehow, I _knew_ I was going to meet you."

The witch blinked several times in rapid succession as she said, "Explain before I _actually_ start believing we're both completely barking."

Arching a brow at the term—he would guess that was another word for crazy where she was from—he frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "Before I ended up out here, I had a dream and in it, well, I saw you."

"Me?" Her voice was barely a thread of sound.

"You." He widened his eyes in emphasis as he nodded, once more. "Your face, your _wand_ . . . your hair."

Hermione sputtered a giggle in spite of herself as she touched a hand to her wild locks.

"Then I woke up, and heard a noise. When I followed it . . . ." Despite that she'd literally tumbled through a tree to get here, he thought maybe leaving out the teleporting wardrobe was a wise idea, given the whole _Mad_ Hatter thing. "I wound up out here and found you."

They stared at one another for a stretched, wordless moment.

"And just when I was wondering how the hell I'm supposed to find magic so I can get back to my daughter."

Her brows pinched together. "Your daughter?"

Tipping his head back, he blinked up at the mix of leaves and stars hanging over them as he let his shoulders slump. "She's safe enough for now, but . . . ." He didn't like to think he was playing on her sympathies, but he _needed_ her to understand the urgency of the position he was in. "But I'm the _only_ family she has."

Nodding, she couldn't help but reach toward him. Nearly before she realized what she was doing, she'd rested her hand on his shoulder. She would ignore the immediate—and not at all mysterious—relief at not hearing any mention of a wife. God, that was selfish, wasn't it? What if he was a widower? What if she'd left him and her absence had torn out his heart?

 _Focus, Hermione, you git._

"Well, then, if I can help you, of course I will. C'mon." She dropped her hand to her side and stood up. "Let's go, you can explain _precisely_ what your situation is on the way."

Jefferson shot to his feet, a smile that was equal parts relief and disbelief curving his lips. "You'll really help me?"

Exhaling through her nostrils as she looked up at him, she nodded. "Your daughter needs you. I'm going to guess time is of the essence. And, as I'm far from heartless, I don't see what other option I have. If I _can_ help you, my aid is yours."

Oh, _God_ , he could kiss her! He shook his head at his own thoughts over that, though he couldn't wipe the grin from his face. "You have no idea!" Pivoting on his heel to lead the way, he gave himself a moment to get his bearings. He'd figure out how to explain her to the Queen and her horrible minions on the way. Wait, this girl was a witch, wasn't she? Maybe she had some way to sneak in there so he wouldn't have to explain her presence, at all.

As they started off, something struck him, and he halted just as fast. She stumbled into him, uttering a quick sound of surprise before she backed up, giving him space to turn and look at her.

"You didn't seem ready to believe me until I said this could be fate."

Swallowing hard, Hermione held his gaze, her eyes going wide as she blinked. "Oh . . . caught that, did you?"

The way her voice shivered—ever so slightly, barely noticeable, in fact—caused his eyes to narrow. "Why?"

She drew in a deep breath, letting it out slow before she could answer. Goodness, it was difficult to tell him something so . . . well, dark and sad, really, while he stared into her eyes like this.

"In the world I come from, there was a war. At the last moment, I was caught on the battlefield by a wizard on the other side. He . . . ." She shook her head, feeling tears well up. God, it was so stupid, she'd barely known Corvus Selwyn, why did thinking about his death always do this to her? "He had the chance to kill me. I'll never know quite why, but he stayed his hand. It was so stupid, really, we were just _there_ , sort of staring at each other."

He watched her in silence, her struggle with the scene she was reliving obvious.

"Something in that look we shared, something in that moment, made me think if, maybe, we'd met under different circumstances, he and I could've been . . . _something_. Someone else took advantage of the distraction and killed him. That was a fortnight ago, and I can't get it out of my mind." She forced herself to tack on one last thing. "He died staring into my eyes."

Jefferson's face fell as he forced a gulp down his throat. He didn't think he was going to like where this was going, but he had to ask. "What's that got to do with fate?"

With a watery smile, she sniffled, blinking to keep her tears in her eyes where they bloody well belonged. "He looked _exactly_ like you."

He felt his heart drop into his stomach. Well, it was too late now to wish he hadn't asked.


	3. Castle of Hearts

**Chapter Three**

Castle of Hearts

"I'm sorry."

Jefferson nearly stumbled at the suddenness of her apology from beside him. He knew the way—or the basic direction, anyway—and she had her wand to light their surroundings. He had to keep his naturally longer gait in check so she wasn't hurrying to keep pace with him, but it was certainly easier than any other way.

Frowning, he turned his head, watching her expression in the dim illumination as they kept walking. "What for?"

Hermione forced a tightlipped grin and shrugged. "If you haven't noticed, neither of us has said a word since we started walking again. I'm sorry I told you about Corvus—the man you look like. I know it probably was a bit of a shock to hear you so closely resemble a, well, a . . . ."

"A dead man?"

She cringed and shook her head. "God, there really is no easy way to put that, is there?"

Jefferson chuckled. "No, not really, which is probably why you shouldn't be so hard on yourself about it. I agree it was a 'bit' of a shock, but I think when you say that and when I say it, we mean two different things."

A half-smile curving her lips, Hermione nodded. "Sorry, suppose that's my cultural upbringing. We have a tendency to downplay serious things. Which is odd, now that I think on it, as we tend to get furious rather fast over small things that cause minor hiccups to our day."

"Okay, so if I hear you get angry, it's something small, if I hear you say something like 'we've got a little problem,' we're in trouble?"

"Pretty much," she said, exhaling a quiet laugh. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "So, tell me, Jefferson. You said you need magic to get back to your daughter and you're prisoner of the Queen of Hearts, but what's your story exactly?"

He winced, picking his steps carefully over some gnarled roots breaking through the forest floor. "I, um, I wasn't always a very good person."

"Meaning what?" she asked, wary of his answer now, and wondering if she should've pried at all.

Jefferson shrugged, seeming to peer off into the distance. "Meaning what magic I could scrape together in my world, I used to make a living. The buyers . . . weren't always good people, themselves. In fact, they were very _rarely_ good people. I have . . . ." He paused for a moment, squaring his jaw. " _Had_ the ability to weave that magic into the hats I created, and those hats acted as a doorway between worlds. But there was a rule that had to be followed. However many people go in, have to come back out, or the magic won't work for the return trip."

"So, you stopped because, what? Of your daughter?"

Midstride, he pivoted on his heel to face her, one hand sweeping the air. "See? You understand. It's not crazy."

"Not at all." Hermione's brow furrowed. "You said yourself that very rarely did 'good people' seek your services, it only makes sense, then, that you'd close up shop, so to speak, to protect her from the unsavory sorts with whom you typically dealt."

When silence fell, she turned to look back at him. He simply stood there, watching her.

The witch blinked. "What?"

"Sorry," he said, offering a sheepish grin. "I just . . . I really like the way you talk."

She bit her lip and turned away to keep walking, fighting the blush she felt flaring in her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she said, "G—go on. You got out of your business for your daughter, but clearly something lured you back in?"

"The Queen, Regina." As he explained, Hermione's brows pinched together all over again about how redundant 'Queen Regina' was, but she kept her mouth shut. Maybe the woman's parents simply knew what she'd grow up to be. "She offered me a lot of money. I mean, a lot. It was really difficult to make a living as an ordinary tailor, especially with a second mouth to feed. At first, though, I didn't accept. As the days passed, I started to realize how much easier things could be if I accepted. I thought about all the things I could give Grace if I took the Queen's offer."

"And so you changed your mind."

He nodded. "And so I changed my mind. Regina wanted me to take her here, to retrieve something, she said. So, I did. What she never told me, not until it was time to leave and the Queen of Hearts learned we were here, was that the something she was after was a who, not a what."

Immediately, Hermione connected that information to what he'd already said. "So, she broke the rule and that's how you got stranded here, because two came in and two went back, but the magic doesn't specify who, only how many?"

"Exactly. And my kind of magic only works when I'm in my correct world, I think. I've tried to understand why I can't make it work here, and that's the only thing that makes sense."

As they broke the treeline, she stopped short. The Queens of Heart's castle was huge. She thought Hogwarts might only take up half of it. "Dear God. I've lived in a castle most of the past seven years, and this is still impressive."

Again, silence followed her comment and she glanced at Jefferson. "What?"

"Do all witches live in castles where you're from?"

Laughing softly, she shook her head. "No. It's a long story. Well, perhaps not. I'll sum it up. Where I'm from? Young witches and wizards attend magic school from the ages of 11 to 17, and it just so happens the school in my country was built as a castle."

He nodded, only for his face to fall in a frown. "The gates are closed." He looked to the impossibly tall, pointed tops of the doors. "How are we going to—?"

His words were cut short as Hermione grabbed his hand and Apparated them to the other side of the gate. To his credit, Jefferson didn't heave out his stomach as they popped back into existence like most people did their first time—she'd attribute that to his system already being accustomed to magical travel. She'd imagine traversing a portal between worlds via magically imbued hat wasn't much different from Apparition.

In fact, as he got his legs steady under him, he turned a smile on the witch that was half confusion, half surprise. "That was your magic?" he asked, looking back through to the other side of the gate.

"Yes. I'm sorry it won't be that simple to get you back home," she started, knowing what the next logical question would be if she didn't answer preemptively. "I have to _know_ a place in order to use this sort of travel, and it can't travel all that far without risk of injury to the travelers; I could, for instance, travel from one part of a city to another without issue, but if I were going from one country to another, it would be safer to make stops along the way, or go with another form of travel, entirely. I was able to get us past the gate because I could literally see the other side, so it was both _more_ than within range of safe travel and was someplace I didn't have to've been before taking us there."

His shoulders slumped a little, hoping it had simply been something she'd overlooked. "I understand." He glanced toward the castle. "So, it'll be the same for getting back in there? We can peek in a window and you can just . . . whatever that just was?"

Nodding, she laughed again. "Pretty much. It's called Apparition."

His brow furrowed. "Like a ghost?"

"Yes, I think that's actually why it's called that. Someone could be looking right at you and, next thing they know, you vanish from sight."

"Anyway, c'mon." He tugged on her hand—only then did she realize she'd never relinquished her hold on him after Apparating. "It's a miracle they haven't realized I'm gone, yet."

Reflexively cringing, she held still a moment, waiting.

His blue eyes wide, it was now Jefferson's turn to ask, "What?"

When nothing happened—no bells clanging, or doors being dramatically thrown open, or . . . she didn't know, terrifying beasts that were the Wonderland equivalent of guard dogs started barking ferociously—the tension flooded right back out of her as quickly as it had rolled in. "Oh, I just . . . ." She looked from him, to the castle, and back. "I'm just so used to something going wrong when anyone makes a comment about how nothing's gone wrong."

He snickered and shook his head. "C'mon," he said again, once more tugging her into step behind him. "You have an interesting perspective, though. I'm sure I'm eventually going to ask about the adventures you've had _before_ we stumbled across each other."

Hermione stared at the back of his head a moment while they crept around the side of the castle. "I'm glad you said 'eventually,' because anything like that would certainly have to wait until after _this_ particular adventure is over. We don't exactly have that sort of time, I'd imagine."

"Wait 'til I'm back home and everything's calm, got it." He stopped, but just as he peered into the window checking that they'd made it to his workroom, he realized something. Turning to meet her gaze, he asked, "All this about getting me home. But what about you?"

"Oh." She shrugged, casting her gaze heavenward. "I just . . . I function better when I'm focusing on other's problems instead of my own. Much like getting you back home, it's not so simple a matter of Apparating back there. I mean, might it work? Sure! But then, it might also be the worst idea anyone's ever had, _ever_ , and I'll end up Lord knows where in a heap of disassembled molecules."

His entire face seemed to close down as he murmured, "Heap of disassembled what?"

"Oh," the witch said once more. "Right. Fairy tale world, you wouldn't know a word like that. Basically, I'd be broken down into the smallest possible bits I could be while still existing. Okay, even that's not quite the correct way to explain it, but you get the idea."

"That sounds very unpleasant."

Hermione stepped up beside him and stood on her toes to look inside the window. "I don't know that's what would actually happen, but the problem is that I also don't know that it wouldn't happen."

He nodded, wagging his finger in the air. " _That_ I understand."

"All right. Here we go again." She squeezed her hand around his in reminder. "You ready?"

Jefferson nodded.

She braced once more for the uncomfortable twisting sensation though her middle and then brought them into the castle. Popping out on the other side of the window, she let go of him and leaned back against the wall, realizing something.

"You okay?" he asked, noting her unsettled expression.

Nodding, Hermione forced a smile, but was perfectly aware it did not come across as the reassuring expression she was hoping it would. "Yes, but, um . . . it just occurred to me . . . . I am in a fairy tale world, there's probably magics here unlike anything I've encountered before. I used my own magic without even thinking through if it would work properly or not! I can't believe I was so careless!"

A crooked half-smile curved his lips, and she almost laughed for how pitying it looked. "Hey," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You tried it and it worked, and I think that's more important than torturing yourself over what might've been. We're both here, we're both okay. Now, we just need to figure out how to use your magic to make a hat that works so we can get out of here."

Pursing her lips, she nodded. "So, you're telling me you never torture yourself about accepting Regina's offer? Never kick yourself for making a decision that could've been wrong?"

Those blue eyes dimmed a little as he dropped his gaze to the floor. "That's different. My decision _was_ wrong. I made a mistake, and it took me away from my daughter."

"And I acted thoughtlessly and could've ended up hurting both of us, never mind what that might've done to your chances of ever seeing Grace again."

"Hey!" He snapped his attention back to her face, catching her chin in his fingers so she couldn't look away. "You used magic to help me slip back into this castle so I can get back to her. You've been trying to help me almost literally since the moment we met. You can't tell me that's the same thing."

"You're really too hard on yourself. You only wanted to give your daughter a better life. That's something every parent should want for their child."

Nodding, he let his gaze wander her features for a moment. "So, this is the plan, then? You help me get home and then we figure out how to get you home?"

Hermione nodded, aware of her a flush stealing over her skin under the weight of his stare. "That's the plan, since you won't be able to bring me back to my world without getting stuck there, and Apparition is out of the question."

"So . . . it's safe to say we'll be sharing each other's company for a while."

"I suppose so." She had to pause, swallowing hard as her eyes remained locked with his.

"Good. I think I'd like Grace to meet the woman who rescued her father."

A smile played on her lips even as the realization that they were drifting toward one another set off a swirl of giddy butterflies rippling through her stomach. "Really?"

"You're brave, you're smart," he said, his brows pinching together, "you help people even when there's nothing in it for you—I don't know about your world, but in mine that type of selflessness has gotten hard to come by."

"I don't know about all that." Hermione frowned. Sure, she was those things, but she was also judgmental, short-tempered, and _oy_ , could she hold a grudge!

Jefferson smirked. "You chose to help me when you didn't _have_ to. You could've decided to just find a way to get yourself back home and told me to do the same. I want her to know a person like you is real. I think you'd be a good influence."

She couldn't deny that her heart warmed at the sentiment, even as she shook her head, his fingers still gripping her chin in a gentle hold. "We've only just met and whatever situation we find ourselves in once you're back home would only be temporary—would only be until I find a way to get back to where _I_ belong. You're talking like neither of those things are the case."

Tearing his attention from hers, he darted his gaze about. With a self-derisive laugh, he shook his head, his gaze recapturing hers. "You're right, I am. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, even if it's not likely, it's still a nice thing to imagine."

Hermione moved nearer, closing the last bit of distance between them.

As their lips met, a horrible bellow thundered through the corridors. " _Jefferson!"_

They broke apart wide-eyed as that awful shout was followed by too-loud footfalls echoing along the nighttime-quiet of the floors. Hermione looked toward the door, and then back at him.

"What the _hell_ is that?"

Swallowing hard, he dropped his hands from her and backpedaled toward his worktable. "That's the Queen. Hide. In the green wardrobe, _now!"_


End file.
